


A Study In Purple

by Legorandia



Category: Homestuck
Genre: First Time, Fluff and Smut, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Smut, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 13:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legorandia/pseuds/Legorandia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He tastes like grease paint and orange soda and something completely and indescribably alien.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study In Purple

**Author's Note:**

> Special thank you to Aewin for proofreading this and listening to my bitching and complaining.

He tastes like grease paint and orange soda and something completely and indescribably alien. His tongue—longer than yours and of a distinctly different texture—is twisting with your own, and you can feel the sharp tips of his teeth as you venture into his mouth.

It’s been a month since Gamzee Makara first came to stay with you. You aren’t sure entirely why he first showed up at your door; you have a feeling that there’s still quite a bit of tension between him and the other members of his species left over from the game, so it could be he just had nowhere else to go. You yourself have to admit that he’s done some questionable things in the past, however in the end he proved himself to be more of a hero than _anyone_ had expected. If anything he at least deserves a second chance, one you're willing to give to him.

The time since he began staying with you has been full of rap battles, orange Faygo, and passing out in piles of smuppets. You’ve had multiple conversations about religion and robotics, as well as one very interesting strife that you still aren’t entirely sure you won (it’s amazing how well he can go up against your sword with a juggling club). You have to admit the two of you have a great deal in common, and after enforcing a strict daily ablution rule he’s become rather pleasant to be around. During the last week you’ve begun noticing that he seems to find your company very pleasant as well; you’ve been catching him watching you when you’re in his vicinity, which might have been unnerving if not for the fact that you’ve also begun to catch yourself watching him when he isn’t looking.

Yesterday he kissed you. No warning, no lead-up whatsoever—you’d been sitting together (albeit closer than normal) and he’d draped his arm over your shoulders, turned, and kissed you right on the lips. It had been quick, not long enough to react to properly, and then he had just smiled and the two of you had carried on watching whatever shitty SBAHJ movie you’d had on at the time.

He had kissed you, and you, Dirk Strider, man of action, had been completely caught off your guard by it.

Now you're standing against the wall of your bedroom and your tongue is wrestling with his, and you have never been so turned on in your life.

Kissing him is nothing like kissing Jake was. Jake was always timid with you despite his gung ho adventurous attitude; every advance, every initiation, had been yours. It was fine—you're used to being in charge of every situation. Being in charge of a relationship was no different, though a part of you has to admit that the whole experience was distinctly less satisfying than you’d hoped.

Feeling his hands run down your sides, his fingers against the bare skin under your shirt, you are quite aware that the one currently in charge of this situation is absolutely not you, and it is positively _exhilarating_. It would have taken you at least another month of meticulously planning out every detail before you’d have even considered coming on to the Faygo-happy troll; his advance has been unrestrained and completely sincere from the start, and god help you if that isn't the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. Your hands slide down under the hem of his pants and grab his ass and he makes a sound in his throat that is nearly a growl and breaks away, leaning in to run his tongue over the shell of your ear.

“Show me what you motherfucking got,” he practically purrs, at least as well as he _can_ purr with a voice that sounds like he swallowed a handful of gravel.

“After you,” you reply, giving his ass a squeeze. This is getting very serious very fast, and you realize you have absolutely no problem with that. You’re seventeen, hormonal, and the only romantic prospect you have within your own species is your ex-boyfriend (who now has a girlfriend). You spent the first sixteen years of your life completely alone with no physical contact from anyone other than yourself—you thought that would end after the game was over, but you’re still living here by yourself while your friends have all started relationships around you. If your not-entirely-unattractive troll roommate wants to get down and dirty with you then _fuck_ , you don’t think anyone could blame you for being okay with it.

You are not planning on just passively taking it, however; this is going to go both ways, or it isn’t going to go at all. He seems okay with this because he grins, and the next thing you know his shirt is on the ground, followed immediately by his pants. He steps back and you are presented with the sight of him completely naked; his body is hairless aside from what’s on his head, and there are scars… god, _everywhere_ , from every bullet and stab wound he received during the game. It’s as if he’s being held together by scar tissue at this point and you find it morbidly fascinating; it’s almost distracting enough to prevent you from noticing that something wet and purple is beginning to emerge between his legs. The exposed tip twitches, and until this moment you never realized that something so profoundly alien could be so sexy.

He raises a hand to your face and runs one finger along the edge of your shades before taking hold of them between his thumb and index finger. You expect them to be removed but he’s just holding them, as though he’s waiting for permission. After a month together he seems to understand you well enough to know that if you weren’t willing you wouldn't be allowing any of this to happen, but he hasn’t seen you without your shades, and after another moment of him just _standing_ there you understand that it’s more than requesting permission—it’s a question of trust. He’s shown you already that he trusts you; his initial advance yesterday was proof of that, and everything he’s done since then has reaffirmed it. Now it’s your turn to show that you trust him.

You nod slowly. He leans forward and presses his lips softly to yours; it’s different from the last kiss, more tender, and you feel a fluttering of warmth in your chest. He removes your shades as he pulls away, and you meet his eyes unobscured for the first time.

“Look how motherfucking cool I’m all am now, bro.” Placing the shades on his own face he grins at you as you pull your shirt over your head.

“With great coolness comes great responsibility,” you tell him as you unbuckle your belt. “Are you up to the challenge?”

“I am all up on that like a bitch ass nin—” His words trail off abruptly, which may have something to do with the fact that your pants just hit the ground. You lean back against the wall, your cock hard and flushed between your legs, and he outright _ogles_ you.

“ _Motherfuck._ ”

Your cheeks flush slightly at his gaze. “Yeah, I don’t exactly have a pocket to put mine away in when I’m not using it.”

He sinks to his knees and then his hand is on your dick, squeezing it in an odd sort of way and seeming amazed that it doesn’t bend or twist around his hand. “That is the most wicked motherfucking thing I’ve ever seen.” He squeezes it again and his thumb presses up against the underside of the head right where it feels goddamn _fantastic_. “It’s all standing up like… like a motherfucking pole. You all get your pail on with this?”

You nod, trying not to appear as breathless as you’re currently feeling. “Pretty damn well if the continued survival of our species for so many centuries is any indicator.”

You’re leaking pre-cum and he obviously notices, because the next second his tongue is on you, and _fuck,_ you'd be more concerned about his teeth if it wasn’t the most amazing thing you’ve ever felt. He doesn’t attempt to take you into his mouth but his tongue moves over every exposed inch of your cock and his hand is squeezing at the base and _he’s still wearing your fucking glasses._ By the time he pulls away you’re audibly gasping.

He stands and presses his body flush against yours. Pushing the shades down, he meets your eyes with a sly grin. “ _Show me how humans motherfucking do it._ ”

Your shades join the pile of clothes at your feet, and as he kisses you again what you believe must be his bulge extends and wraps around your cock. His tongue is back in your mouth and your hands move back down to his ass and squeeze, and he _grinds_ against you, growling deep in his throat. Cracking open an eye you locate the general vicinity of your bed and steer the two of you towards it. You half expect him to turn things around on you but he lets you push him down, and then you’re kneeling between his legs looking down at him. He stares back up at you, and his makeup is smudged and you’re sure some of it is on you now, but you could not possibly care less about anything else at the moment.

You figure you’re allowed to take a minute to really look at him as he had you, so you do so. His bulge is nearly as thick as your dick at the base and almost two inches longer, tapering off to barely the width of a finger at the tip; it’s curled over his lower stomach and the muscle flexes every few seconds, causing it to twist involuntarily and make you wonder what that would feel like inside of you. A small puddle of purple fluid is beginning to form on his stomach, and you marvel over that as he must have marveled over your own fluid being colorless. Directly below his bulge you can see what must be his nook, flushed purple and absolutely nothing like any vulva that you’ve ever seen.

“Just so you’re aware, the merchandise you see is all that I have in stock.” You trace a finger across the slit and watch his eyes flutter. “Only female humans have the inside part.”

“Ain’t got no motherfucking problem with your bitchin’ human bulge.” Two of your fingers slide into him and he tilts his hips towards you. “That’s all why the messiahs up and gave a motherfucker a nook.”

You thrust your fingers into him shallowly a few times before learning down and running your tongue up the entire length of his nook and bulge; he tastes like salt, and the way he shivers makes you have to go back down for seconds. You work your tongue into the folds, and the utterly inhuman sounds he makes go straight to your loins. His bulge coils around your hand and you have a feeling you’re going to have an entirely new set of kinks after this.

You tongue-fuck him for a good minute, listening to him grunt breathlessly, before you climb onto him and crush your mouth to his. He returns the kiss heatedly, and one of his hands finds your cock again and you're suddenly the one who’s pressing against _him_ as he massages it in his palm. When he rubs the head against his slit you break away, pausing for a moment to look down into his eyes. They’ve just begun to fill in purple, and the amount of emotion that you can see in them—trust and adoration mixed with lust, all focused entirely on you—is overwhelming. You are struck quite suddenly with a feeling not of love (it’s far too early for that) but of such intense infatuation that your breath is taken away for a moment, and when he chuckles you grin despite yourself.

“See something you motherfucking like?”

You bring a hand to his face, brushing your thumb tenderly over a patch of grey skin where the paint has come off. “Absolutely.”

When you finally enter him it's with a slow, careful motion; there’s no need to rush, and you don’t want to wind up hurting him. Besides, it’s always wise to exercise caution when entering new and unfamiliar territory. You have no idea how compatible the two of you will be physically; for all you know he could be full of spikes waiting to latch on to your dick and hold you prisoner until orgasm.

There are no spikes, just a tight, tight wetness that’s cooler than your own body temperature. The first sign of discomfort doesn’t cross his face until you’re halfway into him, at which point you discover you can’t move in any further. You shift, changing the angle of your hips to see if that helps, but it’s no use. He’s built to take something much more flexible than what you have, something that can twist around curves and into hard to reach places.

“We may have to try something else.” You pull out and massage his thighs as you think. There are a lot of other options, a few of which you are seriously considering when he props himself up on his elbows, staring at your dick as if he were trying to solve the most important problem in the universe.

“I ain’t no motherfucking expert,” he says after a moment. “But I think if your human bulge were just all like to be the other way around… it might up and work better. ‘Cause of like how we’re all made to be inside.”

You glance down at yourself and then back up at him. “You mean if it curved down instead of up? We could try it with you facing the other way.”

“Yeah, bro.” He sits up, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling you into a sloppy kiss as he moves into a kneeling position. When he pulls away his eyes meet yours with a look of intense desire, and his voice is low and thick with arousal. “I want you up and all inside me. Want to _feel_ that motherfucker all up in there. Let’s try this shit again.”

He turns around and you grasp his hips, positioning him in your lap; you bite his shoulder gently and he growls deep in his chest, leaning back and rocking against you as you slide into him again. You let him sink down onto you, keeping yourself still as he tries to see how far in he can take you. For a moment it seems like it isn’t going to work again—he’s almost painfully tight around your cock and surely if the shape isn’t an issue this time the _size_ of you will be—but then he rolls his hips and inhales sharply, and suddenly you’re in him completely.

He’s shaking but it seems to be from pleasure, as though you’ve pushed through to some intensely sensitive place inside of him. You wrap both hands around his bulge and he makes a sound high in his throat that is almost a whine; from the amount of effort it took to get you all the way inside you don’t think you’ll be able to thrust into him properly, but you roll your hips and the movement causes both of you to gasp.

“Lean forward,” you say in his ear, nipping at it before he moves to place his hands on the bed. You adjust your own position and begin moving in shallow circles, rolling back and then forward into that spot that causes him to gasp and shake. In no time at all he is reduced to a mess of moans and shivers and full body twitches, and every sound he makes goes straight to your cock. The tightness around you feels _amazing_ but as you continue moving shallowly you begin to realize that while it seems to be fantastic for him… it isn’t quite enough for you. You ache to thrust harder, to pull out and slam back into him, to fuck him _properly_ down into the bed. He’s gloriously wet and tight around you, but the lack of decent friction is slowly causing you to become unraveled.

“Gamzee,” you gasp after another minute. You need to tell him that this still isn’t working, at least not for both of you. You didn’t realize it was possible to be so sexually frustrated _while actively having sex_ but apparently it is a thing that can happen because it’s happening to you right now. He doesn’t seem to hear you however, either that or he mistook your exclamation for one of pleasure; his face is pressed into your bed sheets and you’re pretty sure he’s clawed a few holes in them.

“ _Gamzee_.” Desperately you dig your fingers into his thigh and he shudders, lifting his head to look back at you. Most of the paint is gone from his face, transferred to the sheet below him, and his cheeks are flushed dark purple. His eyes are glazed over with pleasure and you _throb_ at the sight of it. You're the one making him feel this way, it’s all you, and if you stop now and switch gears just because you can’t get off like this you’ll be the biggest asshole this side of Skaia.

Fuck it, you can hold out.

His bulge is pulsing in your hand and you work it harder, trying to remember the way he was squeezing you earlier. Another whine comes up from his throat and he arches and begins rolling his hips against yours desperately, and he is _so fucking hot_ and you want to pound yourself into him _so fucking badly_ you can hardly stand it. You feel him tightening around you even further to the point where you can barely move at all, and then suddenly he’s _there_ , crying out and shaking and covering your bed in purple genetic fluid.

The moment his muscles relax their death grip on your dick you’re pulling out and slamming back into him as far as you can easily go. After all of the painfully frustrating buildup it only takes a few good thrusts before you’re coming, gasping raggedly and gripping tightly at his hips. You feel like you’ve been right on the edge for hours but as torturous as it’s been, the resulting orgasm is one of the best you’ve ever had.

You pull out a moment later, completely spent, and he rolls over onto his back and pulls you down onto him, throwing an arm and a leg over you. You bury your face in his neck as you catch your breath, and he runs a clawed hand through the back of your hair.

“Sorry about your motherfucking bed, bro.” You can feel his voice rumbling in his chest underneath you.  You lift your head and crack an eye open, glancing at the mess of purple fluid staining your sheets.

“I’m sure there’s a pile of puppets around here that’s big enough for two.” You’re pretty sure that this probably wasn’t the best place to have done this, but you don’t particularly care just yet. You feel a low, rumbling purr in his chest and begin to drift off, already forming plans for next time in your half-awake mind. One thing is for certain – you will be _much_ more prepared.


End file.
